Edge of Night
by lightpoint
Summary: Pre-TFA. Sidious POV. Same 'verse as 'Counting Days'. The sands of Jakku hide many things. Such as Darth Sidious and his last remaining viable clone in the bowels of a wrecked battleship. Years later, he is awakened by a scrawny scavenger with a blinding Force presence: Rey. Perhaps the Sith are not as dead as the galaxy believes. Sith!Rey/Darth Sidious
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Thirty-odd years after the second Death Star was destroyed, Darth Sidious is drawn back to the land of the living.

 **Author's Note:** Set in the same universe as Counting Days - this follows the same timeline, except it's from Sidious' perspective. It is also more condensed - Sidious tends to take 'the long view' of things.

 **#####**

 _There are no coincidences._

It had taken over five decades of natural - _hah!_ \- life for the words of his old fool of a Master to sink in, for him to truly absorb their implications.

And it was beautiful.

The jagged edges of Anakin's conflict had sliced into his senses, even as the smell of his own flesh burning and melting filled his nostrils, and a glorious corona of raw Dark Side energy obscured his vision. Windu, his focus narrowed down to holding him in the inevitable standoff – a weakness of the Jedi's version of Vaapad – completely ignored the oncoming storm.

Sideous saw it, dropped his guard, screamed for help, and the last of Anakin Skywalker's Light was snuffed out.

He shivered at the memory of the beauty, the raw pleasure of Vader's absolute submission.

His realization had come from what had doubtlessly seemed needlessly self-indulgent to his ascetic Apprentice. Sideous had made of point of following Anakin Skywalker's development, first as a discontented Padawan that seethed with frustrated lust and unchecked terror, and later as a Jedi who flat-out refused to acknowledge his own Darkness. And was inevitably consumed by it.

However, as his years as Emperor began to wear on him, he began, in his (annoyingly infrequent) sessions of deep meditation, to ponder the series of events that had drawn his Apprentice to him.

In the grand scheme of things, his victory on _that_ front had been almost too easy. He smiled at the memory. Decades of preparation and playing both sides of a galactic civil war against each other had been both enjoyable and fulfilling - _pull the strings, watch them dance_ \- and yet nothing had made the Dark Side rumble with dark contentment as the moment that Vader kneeled at his feet.

And yet the way that Vader had come to him…If the Trade Federation attack (one of his very favorite plans) had not driven Padme Amidala and the Jedi to Tatooine, had the Jedi visited a different junk shop for parts, had Qui-Gon Jinn not sacrificed the mother for the sake of the son…

 _Coincidences._

And thus he was not surprised at all when a searing Force presence jolted him out of his decades-long slumber in the belly of the _Gorgon_. He'd been aware, on some level, that his last set of meat puppets was in danger. Even when his resources were, for all intents and purposes, unlimited, he never put one on until he was certain of at least an hour of safety. Thus he had not _Risen_ to assist the crew of the _Gorgon_ when the Dreadnaught went down in the Battle of Jakku, and had instead diverted the ship's remaining energy and the life force of the crew to shielding his remaining seven clones. He had not accepted defeat, had instead imbued the tanks with his presence.

And waited.

And then the presence…He followed the light down, and shuddered as his awareness flooded with the sensations of the flesh. The fluid in the cloning tank had long since grown cold, but the feeling…he'd forgotten…

He opened his eyes slowly. The room was pitch black except for a piercing flare of a cutting torch coming through a wall. He bit down on the rebreather, sucked in air, and reached for the controls with the Force. The tank unceremoniously dumped him onto the deck. He lay still, blinking weakly, his underdeveloped limbs not obeying his commands. The torch shut off, and there was a grunt, and then a clank as the metal broke apart. The light, the _presence_ drew nearer on soft, cautious feet. The half-forgotten stench of filthy human filled his nostrils. Light stung his eyes, and he made a quiet noise.

A mumbled apology, and then a gentle red light, carefully shielded by a small hand.

A rough shadow leaned over him. Huge, dark eyes ran over his face, took in his wasted nakedness with shock.

"Are – are you all right?" It was a quiet voice. The scared voice of a girl. A girl whose presence was a that of a young star. Her face was close enough to touch.

He reached out with the Force.

"He-help me…Please…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Sidious learns about his surroundings. And his savior.

 **####**

It was awhile before he could move on his own. Of course, he could have gotten himself out of that wreck if he'd _really_ needed to, either by manipulating his limbs with the Force like a marionette or by simply _lifting_ , but the girl – _Rey_ , how fitting – had brought him food and water with barely any Force-ful prompting on his part. She'd lifted him, cleaned him, laid him on rough blankets, and watched over him as he slept. She brought him an old, (stinking) but still serviceable tunic and trousers when he was strong enough to dress – in the beginning it was all he could do to raise and lower his arms, and he wouldn't let her touch him more than was absolutely necessary: The feeling of her rough - _warm, gentle_ \- hands on his skin was too overwhelming in this new, sensitive body.

In many ways, being a creature of spirit was easier.

It helped that she had no idea what a cloning cylinder was. He was able to pass his situation off as a very long stay in a medical stasis pod, using the Force to subtly steer her away from the sheer improbability of such a thing surviving the Gorgon's demise.

He let her guide him out when he could move with minimal assistance from the Force. It was slow and painful, and he leaned on her thin shoulders more than he would have liked, in his old life. But the dependence was not without purpose.

Her soul was beautiful, and so, so, fragile - fractured glass barely containing the lightning bolt of her Force potential. There was a hole in her heart, raw with the pain of abandonment.

 _Alone. Alone, always alone…_

He traced the scratches on the wall of the wrecked AT-AT that she called home, counted them as he lay exhausted on her bed. Going by Coruscant time, and the length of the average day on Jakku…

"How long have you been here?" he asked when she flopped down next to him, passing him a meager share of the thin slop she'd been feeding him for weeks.

"I don't know," she said, shrugging, her face a careful mask of indifference.

 _Eleven years,_ he thought. The Force hummed in agreement.

"Your accent," he said, choking down the swill, voice still quiet, grateful. "You weren't born here, were you?" She flinched. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "It's confusing here. This place…" He gestured broadly, encompassing more than her hovel. He looked away. "The _Gorgon_ was falling apart. I know it crashed, but it couldn't have gotten that way…overnight." He set down his bowl and looked her in the eyes. "Rey, how long was I asleep?"

It was Rey's turn to look away.

"Rey?"

"I'm not sure," she said, slowly. "That - Your ship fell in the Battle of Jakku," she continued, as if reciting a history lesson. "And that was a little over a year after the Battle of Endor. I think. That's all I remember from school. I was really young, so…" she shrugged. "Sorry."

"The _Gorgon_ …" he whispered, letting his voice break. "She was the _Gorgon_."

Rey set her bowl down and slid closer, hesitant.

"I'm so sorry," she said, laying her hand over his. He let her.

 **####**

He told her his name soon after that. His real name. After all, _Sheev Palpatine_ was considerably better known than _Sidious_.

And he liked the way it sounded on her lips.

He kept the _Darth_ to himself for two years, during which he allowed Rey to teach him the rules of her bitter, day-to-day existence. He stayed with her, ostensibly because she never asked him to leave. In return for a place to sleep, he shared his knowledge of Empire-Era battleships, and subtly prevented any of the vermin in the oasis from finding the _Gorgon_. Coincidences again – the ship had remained undiscovered for 30 years, having fallen into a massive cave system. A rockslide had covered it, and it would likely have remained that way if not for Rey venturing out further into the Wastes than usual.

The exclusive access to a veritable goldmine of parts in almost perfect working condition meant that Rey began to enjoy a level of prosperity that had been far beyond her reach before he arrived in her life. Her glee over being able to trade her sudden excess of 'portions' for actual food and new clothing woke something in her that she had put aside long ago. She remembered how to _want_.

She slept deeper with him next to her, too. In the _before_ , as he knew she privately called the long stretch of time before she found him, she had rarely had a full night of uninterrupted sleep, always jolting awake at noises, or the constant danger of the wasteland clawing at her Force senses. Not to mention the stares of her fellow scavengers, which had begun to follow her in earnest once her body began to mature. There was a reason she carried that staff. But with him there…She slept sounder now that she had someone to watch over her.

Yes, she never thought to gather material for a second bed. It was ingrained scavenger instinct; waste not. Her home was cramped, the nights were cold, and she thought that he was too weak to take advantage of her, so she had climbed in with him slept like a stone. He made sure that it never occurred to her to leave, even when he grew strong enough to carry her when she sprained her ankle badly during an over-ambitious climb.

The medical supplies available in the oasis were serviceable, if primitive. They had enough food to survive until she healed, so she accepted his repeated refusal to leave her alone, barely disguising her disbelieving relief.

He dressed her ankle, drawing on his knowledge of tending to his own hurts during his Sith training. He applied heat packs, and brought her food. He spent just enough time away in the kitchen, or outside watching the sky - _meditating_ \- that she lit up like Coruscant at night when he came in to check on her.

"What are you doing out there?" she asked one day, tugging him down next to her. "When you're out there like that."

"What do you mean?" he asked, feigning ignorance. He'd been steadily expanding his presence in the Force every day, letting it permeate every part of her shelter. It was one of the many facets of the Dark Side. The edge of night was gentle, safe. It rested, it waited, and then it drew you deeper, and _held_. She glared.

"You're doing something. It feels – It feels different out here," she said, grasping for words for something that defied definition.

"Is it a good different?" he asked, smiling playfully.

"I don't – Yes. Yes, it is," she said. "I don't know why, but it feels – I don't know…" She groaned in frustration. He waited patiently. "It's not safe. But it's safe. Have you ever used a blaster?" He cocked an eyebrow at the change of subject. She blushed. "I mean…It feels like there's a loaded blaster. With no trigger guard. I think – I think my father used to sleep with one. My Mom too. They had them strapped to the headboard," she said, her voice strained. She brushed angrily at her eyes. "I used to climb in with them when the noises – " Her voice died. She shrunk away from him.

"Rey," he said.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"All right," he said. "All right." He hid a smile.

 _Not long now…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** Rey realizes the truth, and makes the most important decision of her life.

 **#######**

The proverbial other shoe dropped shortly after her ankle healed. They had collected 2 portions for a working pressure relief valve (lately they had decided not to flood the market and, thus, deflate prices). Rey was haggling with an old Twi'lek over a First-Order Stormtrooper utility belt while Sideous dug through a pile of junk two stalls over, looking for a semi-servicable micro - ion capacitor. He'd been slowly accumulating lightsaber components. His saber had been lost along with his original body. He considered it a cosmic tradeoff, of sorts; a broken, scarred body and an elegant weapon made of the finest materials that money could buy, for a whole, smooth body and a crude tool of unvarnished destruction.

Fair trade. He'd forgotten how good it felt to push his limits in his morning katas, his body flooding with the pain of a good workout, blood rushing with adrenaline and endorphins. He set about the task of getting back into fighting shape, meditating in between combat and strength training hours before the sun came up, before Jakku turned into a furnace.

"Dehydration won't do," he said, panting with exertion after an especially vigorous session of Form VII ( _Juyo,_ his instincts told him that she would take to it especially well, like Maul before her), his lengthening red hair dripping with sweat. Rey accepted it, and his methods, without question when she caught him at it. She never saw much, her diurnal habits too deeply ingrained, hesitant to disturb him. But he could feel her watching, curious, as she woke repeatedly in the night, confusion over the empty space next to her turning into aching loss.

He'd finished his search of the first bin, coming up empty except for a set of high-density ceramic resistors that he _might_ be able to refine when danger flared at his back, and he dodged out of the way of a blaster shot. Rey yelled a warning, but he was already moving. He snatched up the staff he'd constructed for his _Juyo_ sessions, and whirled to intercept the next shot. It blasted the staff to slag, of course, but it bought Rey enough time to come down on his attacker like a lightning bolt. It was his turn to warn as two more scavengers jumped into the fray, one with a vibroblade, one with a broken force pike. Sidious smirked as the favored weapon of his Royal Guards stabbed at his head, pushing it easily aside and smashing the Zabrak's jaw with his knee.

Rey's exhiliaration and fear raged in the Force. He dropped into the first stance of _Juyo_ , and carefully touched her mind, nudging her to circle behind the Aqualish with the vibroblade. Her eyes flicked to his in shock, but he sent a soft tendril of reassurance her way. She left her prey a bloody mess on the ground and moved to pin their remaining assailant between them. He flashed her a wicked grin and went for the blade. Rey struck, crushing the alien's skull. Sidious pushed the body aside, Rey extracting her staff from where it had been buried a solid inch in brains and bone.  
She staggered back, breathing heavily, projecting confused pleasure and relief. Sidious went to her, caught her as she swayed, coming down from the adrenaline high and the touch of the Force.

"It was self defense!" he shouted, nudging his projection with the Force. "You all saw it. There is no crime here." He wrapped an arm around Rey's waist and left the scene as quickly as they could manage.

The entire incident was over and done with in under a minute. One minute, three dead – though she didn't have to know that. Her mind was focused utterly on the blood and brains coating the end of her staff, the wet _crunch_ of the Aqualish's demise repeating on a loop in her head. He set he in front of him on the speeder, wrapping an arm securely around her shaking form.

His brain ground to a halt. This was the closest they had been since she had hauled him up out of the _Gorgon_. Even when they slept, he was careful to keep to himself – a careless arm or leg ending up on her side was as far as he went…And there was clearly a bit more to her than there had been when they first met – two years of good food and healthy sleep had led to development in ways that Sidious greatly appreciated.

He started up the speeder, her curves pressing against his chest, her breath hot on his neck, and again marveled at what he'd been missing all those years without flesh. Even in his original vessel the sensation of a soft body separated from his skin only by thin, rough, cloth, cradled shaking and submissive in his grasp had not been this…consuming. Perhaps he had forgotten.

The ride went quickly. Rey's consciousness buzzed with questions. He felt her frustration at her own helplessness, and a growing sense of anger. At the three dead attackers. At the oasis. At _portions_. But not at him. Not much, anyway. She had confirmation that he'd been hiding something, and was rapidly connecting the dots.

Legends raced through her mind. They were just stories, tales told to children around flaming piles of scrap on Jakku to keep them indoors at night, or whispered with delighted fear at slumber parties full of giggling girls. Or parables meant to teach, to warn, instructions for a tiny child held safe in her parents' arms. One who wanted, and expected, to be warm and safe forever.

Rey the scavenger knew differently.

He lay her down and covered her with the heaviest blankets, he fluffed a pillow, and laid a soothing hand on her forehead. _Rest. Think,_ he sent – a gentle suggestion.

He let her work through it. He trained under Jakku's stark sun for the first time, alternating between _Juyo_ and _Djem So_. Eventually he stripped off his tunic when it began to stick to his skin. He was just settling into some final stretches, when he felt the Force twist in anticipation. He smiled. A decision, then.

"Sidious."

Quiet footsteps drew closer. He set down his staff and turned. She was close enough to touch.

"Lord Sidious," he corrected. She nodded with quiet acceptance.

"Show me."

 **####**

 **Additional Notes:**

Juyo and Djem So info are from Wookiepedia.

Also neither Wookiepedia nor Google know what Sidious' preferred lightsaber form is...But a couple forum discussions said 'everything', and I believe it :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** Rey's training begins.

 **####**

The first thing he did was kick her out of bed.

"I am your Master," he said, as she knelt before him, her eyes red and wet. "It is not fitting." He smiled inwardly at the flare of anger, the rising pain of rejection. "My Apprentice must obey me in all things. If you cannot accept this, then there is nothing I can teach you."

Rey gritted her teeth and nodded, squelching the rising tide of tears. She bowed her head obediently as he paced around her, sizing her up as if he hadn't been weighing her strengths and weaknesses for two years.

"Then your training begins now." Anticipation curled in her belly, thoughts of sabers, of battle - _hands on flushed skin slick with sweat_ \- flooding her mind. He turned and walked inside. Rey jumped to her feet, sparking with excitement.

"Sid –" She yelped as he pushed her back down with the Force. She tried to stand again, only to find herself frozen on one knee, unable to move. He leaned against the doorway, watching silently as she struggled. Slowly he loosened his hold as she realizing what he was doing. He quirked an eyebrow in question. She nodded and stilled, straightening her back and balance.

Sidious left her there until the sun came up.

He found her out cold, lying curled up on her side. He paused, considering, and then planted his foot firmly on her back and _pushed_. She jerked awake and tried to stand, only to immediately tumble when her muscles gave out. He estimated that she'd lasted four hours. Not bad.

Not good either.

"Sidious – " She cried out as his power ground her face into the dirt. She shook with shock, raw terror coursing through her as he reached down, wrapped his hand around her neck and _squeezed_.

"You will address me as 'Master', or 'My Lord'," he said, hauling her up by the hair. He leaned lower, so close that they were sharing breath. "Is that clear?"

"Yes – Si – " His grip tightened. "Yes, my Lord!"

"Good," he said, letting her drop. Slowly she raised herself to one knee, and bowed her head.

He brought her water around mid-day. Perhaps he was growing soft.

 **####**

Sidious did not so much as mention combat training for weeks. There were other, more important lessons to learn. Two days outside had taught her the consequences of disrespect and (unlike Vader), she was quick to accept her place in the universe as well as obey. She set up a rough pallet on the floor next to their – his – bed. He had been tempted to exile her to the kitchen (or the roof), but it _was_ awfully cold at night, the Wastes were dangerous, and he did not want to burn certain…bridges.

 _This,_ he thought, stretching luxuriously against the pillows, looking down on his exhausted apprentice, _Is the way it should be._ The thin blanket barely covered the long, curving lines of her shivering body.

 _Mine._

He further exposed her to the elements, training her in ways to block her pain and discomfort, and to ease both, lest the harsh world cause her permanent damage.

He joined her on the first trip to the top of the _Ravager_. There, they removed all but the base layers of clothing and moved through the first Djem So kata as the sun beat down, their sweat evaporating as it hit metal.

Rey had second degree burns on the soles of her feet at the end of the day. He allowed her some bacta – her head and shoulders were unburnt, so she _had_ succeeded in protecting herself to some degree - before leading her on a run to the _Gorgon_ and back. Sidious gloried in every burning gasp of air, every cramp in his legs. Rey came up with increasingly inventive curses every step of the way. But she kept up.

 **####**

Eventually she earned it. They cleared out the AT-AT's hold and set up a makeshift sparring ring. He summoned her before the sun was up, three months to the day after he took her as an Apprentice.

"All lightsaber combat can be traced back to _this_." He paused in front of her and extended his hand, palm up. She looked up at him, frowning with confusion.

"The Force is in all things," he continued. "It has always existed. And always will. Lightsabers, however…" He waved her up, positioned her into a basic defensive stance, one foot forward, one back, knees bent, her weight centered. "…Are a relatively recent invention." He shoved at her shoulder to check her balance. When she could stand firm, he moved behind her.

"A true Sith is never unarmed," he said in her ear, stepping close enough so that she could feel his heat. His arms circled her, lifted hers, and he positioned them in the Juyo 'ready' position. "Hold that," he said, savoring her shiver. "The core of this form is strength. Conviction."  
He felt her question.

"A Sith is never unarmed," he repeated. "Just as kata is not a dance."

Sidious stepped away and watched her. Clearly she was expecting a repeat of her first night as his apprentice. Instead he came at her from the side – and this time she surprised him. She pivoted to the side and whipped an arm up to protect her face. They met in a violent clash of limbs, ending with Rey on her back, panting and red-faced, his knee on her throat.

"Good," he said, smiling fiercely. "Again."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary:** Sidious and Rey complete their lightsabers.

 **############################**

She improved rapidly, taking to Juyo as if she'd been training her entire life. Drawing on her technical skills and what he taught her, she immediately began collecting pieces for her own lightsaber. Double-ended, like Maul's.

He introduced her to Form VI, _Niman_. Early on he had observed that she needed a counterbalance to Juyo's aggression that played to her strengths and made use of her experience with a staff. After all, a student must be allowed a victory or two, even one as small as mastering one of the Forms faster than the others.

They stayed away from the Outpost as much as possible. Sidious prioritized their purchases, trading portions and machinery for higher-quality food and water. Both of them quickly began to soak up the benefits, Sidious putting on more muscle than he'd had since he was 30 (the first time), Rey's endurance and agility climbing fast.

He began to look to the future. He acquired a clunky holoprojector and began to re-familiarize himself with the galaxy. He took to journeying to the _Gorgon_ alone and read hungrily from what he could recover from the ship's logs. He managed to get the holo-map onwhat had been his private observation deck working, and for a time he just sat in his high backed chair, and let the blue-green images flicker over him. It felt like waking up.

He had to get out.

Sidious wasn't the only one with such thoughts. Rey spent her rare free moments either in the working flight simulator they'd found on the _Ravager_ , or lying on her back on the top of the AT-AT, watching the stars and keeping mental tally of the ships that came and left. One night he joined her. Jakku's sky was clearer than usual, it being that time of year when the wrecks still in orbit were closer to the other side of the planet. He lay next to her and felt her reach out tentatively with the Force. He pushed back gently, twining her senses with his. He closed his eyes, letting her warm presence caress his, cautious, tasting. He pulled back when her breathing sped up. _Not yet_.

He was going to enjoy this _properly_.

She huffed quietly, as close to exasperation as she would ever get around her Master.

"What do you want?" she asked softly. "Really? My Lord." He was silent for a long time. Stars rose and fell as they watched.

"That," he said. The night lay open above them.

Rey smiled.

 **######**

Months passed. His lack of a lightsaber began to rankle. Rey's training had hit a wall. No matter how creative they got with force pikes and slave rods, there really was no substitute.

Crystals weren't the problem. His first major task as Darth Plagious' Apprentice was to create his own. It was a test similar to a Jedi's trip to Illum to hunt for a Kyber crystal. The Sith, of course, had their own way of doing things: it was an exercise in patience, control, and willpower. The needed components were relatively easy to find, but the actual process required the will to bend raw material, raw energy, to fit one's will. Traditionally, it was the task of the Master to oversee the process, but not participate.

Sidious reasoned that a _slight_ bending of such a small tradition would not be amiss when the survival of the Order was at stake. They made their crystals together. He could hardly have hidden his efforts from Rey in the first place, and it saved time. Soon six blood-red stones, flawlessly cut, waited on their workbench, their respective schematics and plans ready and waiting.

So close, yet so far away.

Here he was, a Master in his prime, with a stunning Apprentice…Neither of whom had a lightsaber.

It was just _not done_.

Luckily, said Apprentice was resourceful in many ways. Rey casually mentioned to some of the more discreet traders that she was in the market for…specialized equipment. She parceled out specifics stringently – while they were both certain that, aside from Sidious, everyone who had any idea how to build a lightsaber could be counted on one hand, they saw no need to advertise their plans. Most of what they needed was quite easy to find, if they were willing to sacrifice form for function.

They were – it went without saying.

Rey suggested the next step, on the way back from a lucrative salvage trip to the _Gorgon_.

A Corellian YT-1300 light freighter had been slowly falling apart in Unkar Plutt's junkyard for several years. She had _suggested_ that an old Twi'lek smuggler (passing through, not a Niima regular, unlikely to ask questions) ask to buy it. She'd observed the ensuing argument. The Twi'lek had escaped angry, but alive.

"It's nondescript. There are thousands of those things running contraband out here. And we can argue him down," she said. "With a little help from the Force. It would attract too much attention if we stole it." Sidious nodded.

"Good, my Apprentice. In this case discretion is the best course of action." She smiled at that.

"…But not the preferred one?"

"You are projecting, Apprentice," he said, looking at her knowingly. Her meditation was frequently fueled by the idea of Niima Outpost in flames, or of Plutt chained to the ground, eating his own hands. She blushed.

"None of that, Rey," he said. She stumbled at the use of her name. "It seems that further work is required on your…shame."

Sidious smiled and locked himself off from her emotions. He already knew what he would find.

They continued on in silence.

 **######**

The parts arrived a month after Sidious purchased the freighter. They'd had to cannibalize the _Gorgon_ extensively, to both pay Plutt and to make sure the freighter didn't kill them an hour after they took off. Rey spent many an hour in the engine room, roundly cursing the previous owner, who apparently had wired the primary electrical bus _backwards_. They both kept oxygen masks on hand, after a broken valve and three crossed wires flooded the cockpit with carbon monoxide.

Sidious taught Rey to curse in Sith after she showed him what was wrong with the hyperdrive.

 **######**

By silent consensus, they kept the crystals separate from the now-completed sabers until the freighter was space-worthy. They worked as fast as they dared, spurred on by a sharp sense of urgency.

Something had indeed…shifted. The Dark Side was wild, thick with screams. Invisible threads pulled at Sidious's mind whenever he meditated. Rey - _she needs a name_ \- was struggling as well. Again and again her mind was drawn back into her past, and she was five years old again, twisting in Plutt's grip, _reaching_ for…She wasn't even sure who for. Not anymore.

Neither was Sidious. Once he'd gotten the _Gorgon's_ computer working he had made several inquiries. That she was not listed in the Galactic Census was not surprising. What _was_ surprising was that her genetic material had no matches – not even lists of probable relations.

The Dark Side was similarly quiet.

More coincidences?

He'd have to see.

 **######**

He summoned her to the _Gorgon_ when it was time. He waited in the observation deck, his back to her, silhouetted against the window. It was almost night.

Rey stepped softly forward and knelt at his feet. He felt her eyes on him - she could not quite conceal her reaction – a sharp intake of breath, a flare of heat in the Force.

Apparently the heavy black, hooded robe had been a good choice.

He raised her to her feet. The lightsaber casing, pieces, and crystals waited on a small table near the center of the room. Four crystals for him, two for her. They faced each other, bowed, and wrapped their pieces in the Force.

Every lightsaber is different. The Jedi said that 'your weapon is your life', and in a way the Sith agreed. This time around, Sidious's lightsaber was, by necessity, longer and thicker than he would consider ideal. He'd needed to use off-spec, barely compatible parts in several instances. The result was that he'd had to backtrack the circuits and account for the balance in the casing and internal chassis. And use four crystals. Rey's was, if anything, even more complex. The grip was longer than Maul's lightstaff, to allow for more variation in hand placement. Her main focus had been the dual-switch; it needed to function both as a sword and a staff. The casing was a rough, durable afterthought of her design. Strange, old parts and scavenged wire, getting the job done.

They breathed in unison, reached into the Force, and completed the circuit. Three red blades roared to life.

At Rey's whoop of exhilaration, Sidious crossed to her side of the table, blade humming. Rey saw the expression on his face and extinguished her blade. She knelt, her body humming with _connection_.

He reached out, pushed her hood back, ran his fingers through her soft hair. She gasped, arching into his touch as he traced the lines of her face, ghosting over her cheekbone, feather-light on her jaw, lingering, teasing on her bottom lip. He raised his blade and touched first her left shoulder, then her right, control tight. The smell of burning cloth filled the air.

Adrenaline kicked her heart into overdrive, her body flooded with heat, cheeks and lips flushed with blood. She made to stand, but stopped at his sharp gesture, and bowed her head, panting, eyes wide and dark.

"Master," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Please…"

The Force throbbed with approval. Sidious _reached_ for her. The curtains in her mind parted, her shadowed, secret places open for him. Eager. He pressed inside, and she came with a rough cry, collapsing to the ground, her presence stunned, like open sky after a thunderstorm.

He stepped back, waited.

Slowly, she came back to herself. She gazed at him with wide, shocked eyes. He thinned his own shields, let his lust bleed and burn, let her snatch at it desperately.

He held her steady and cut her robe away. She was close again by the time he was finished, arching toward the burn of his saber, all but screaming in frustration in the Force. Their eyes locked as he parted her legs and slowly raised his saber, held it so close between her thighs. She _did_ scream then, like a wounded animal, at the heat _so close so close_ , terror _he wouldn't he wouldn't_ and the proximity to _him_ , his saber. Her Master. He extinguished the blade, spread her wide, and filled her with the Force in one sharp, thick thrust.

She blacked out.

He swept her up in his arms and settled them into the high-backed observation chair, the one with an unobstructed view of the night sky. He arranged them so that she was in his lap, her back against his chest.

The dim light was just so that he could make out a ghost of a reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. His breath caught, despite himself, as he drank in the picture they made together. Him, all in black, eyes chips of harsh yellow, faintly glowing in the shadow of his hood. Her, all tanned, glistening curves, a body sculpted and strong thanks to _him,_ her flesh aching. For him.

"Mine," he said, tasting the column of neck, taking in deep, indulgent breaths of her earthy scent.

She shivered, woke as he traced slow, slow circles on her abdomen, holding her tightly to his chest.

She didn't know what to do with her hands. He lifted one behind his head, wrapped it around his neck. She reached between her legs, into his robes. He bit back a groan as a hot, steady hand slipped under the thick cloth.

 _Master?_

"Apprentice…" he breathed, his fingers digging into her flesh. Her power threaded with his.

 _Yours._

There was too much cloth in the way. He stood and pinned her to the ground, pulling off the rest of his robes. Rey moaned, her mind flooding with the slick burn of skin on skin. Their eyes locked.

"Do you swear your allegiance, now and forever, to the Order of the Sith?"

Rey's presence blazed with fear and pride.

"Yes, my Master."

Sidious reached into the Force…Yes. That was good. He sank lower, grasped her hair, and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Her dark light seared as she came, pulling him with her.

"Lyre," he said, much later as they lay on a mess of ruined clothes.

He felt a question.

"The Force will know you, now and forever, as Darth Lyre. The Sith will speak of you forever. My Apprentice."

She curled into him, body and soul.

 **######**

They left a week later, when the night lit up with First Order ships. They sensed another, a third presence, winging nearer, a disjointed snarl of confused, _wasted_ power and directionless wrath.

Sidious and Lyre watched from the _Hydra's_ cockpit. Considered.

 _Perhaps later,_ thought Lyre. Sidious smiled.

Stars faded to starlines, and they vanished into the night.

 **######**

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**

 **######**


	6. Epilogue

**Summary:** The next step in their journey begins.

 **#########################**

 **Epilogue**

 **#########################**

Han Solo eyed the security holo feed. The rathtars were restless, and Chewie had been pacing the _Eravana's_ cargo holds for hours now, triple-checking the bulkhead seals. In the event of a containment breach, he _should_ be able to lock the creatures off from the rest of the ship.

 _Never again,_ he thought.

…At least without the fail-safe that Chewie had suggested as soon as they got the things into the hold – triple-reinforced bulkhead between the rear cargo holds and the rest of the ship, so that they could jettison or blow up the rear half. He wouldn't have gone near anything even remotely resembling a rathtar normally, but debts were debts.

 _The more things change…_

Han jerked in his seat as the comm board lit up. His eyes widened.

 _7892 – alpha – dash – 890._

 _No…_

"Chewie, get up here!" he yelled into his comlink.

It was the beacon he'd installed on the _Falcon._ Han pulled up the readout. It had just entered hyperspace, but –

He fired up the gravity well projector that he'd bought for a suspiciously low price from a trader on Malastare six months earlier. The _Eravana_ shuddered, the cabin lights flickering as the generator sucked power to the rear of the ship.

Chewie made it back to the cockpit just as a familiar shape appeared in the viewscreen.

"Chewie," said Han, locking the tractor beam. "We found her."

 **#################################**

 **Author's note:**

Yup, this is getting a sequel! It'll be out after I finish _Counting Days_ , which is basically this story from Rey's perspective (and a lot longer, because of the necessary character development). The sequel will pick up right after they leave Jakku.


End file.
